


A Young Sea

by TEC



Category: Original Work
Genre: Drawn Story Prompt, F/M, Fish Loving, Fish-Loving Alien, Fish-Loving Boys, Hiding Ones Self, Husband Gets Abused, Nothing explicit, Self-Esteem Issues, Shark Wants Coral Rubs, alien - Freeform, aquatic alien, domestic abuse, medical issue, poor self-care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 13:08:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20291962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TEC/pseuds/TEC
Summary: After discovering devastating news, a young man sits by the sea, waiting for quiet and peace. When he is greeted with white noise and vision whiting out, he goes to discover what the cause is, diving into the dark depths of our famous oceans. What if he finds his peace there?





	A Young Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I am an idiot.  
I did not realize my Betta Baby Boy had freaking Fin Rot until almost a quarter of his tail fin was gone. He's fine now. Getting his Home Tank ready as I type this. To top it off, when this started, school was not three days away. Now I am in school, which will restrict my uploading time, or shorten the length of my updates, but fear not ! I am not dead. Yet.  
My friend is super good at drawing and gave me more than enough inspiration for this lovely thing before you. I am just the messenger folks! This amount of awesomeness is all hers!  
I like this summary, but if you have any tips, please put those down in the comments below. Please, I'm so lonely...  
Enjoy!

A young man, devoid of any wrinkles but snowy hair had sprung up too early for his liking. He was walking across the shore, his bare feet leaving sandy footprints in the wake of his pondering. As he walked, he only listened to the sounds of the ocean, not looking once. He did not need to see the ocean; he only needed the sounds. He knew what his solace looked like by heart, the calming movements of the ocean, singing sweetly to those around and its inhabitants, the white foam of individual waves clashing, their weaponized froth tearing each other apart, the water droppings spraying into a mist at his feet.

The young man breathed in deep, closing his eyes as he organized his thoughts. It was a big day; it was the day he would say goodbye to his old life. He had signed the papers, he was done. The once love of his life was packing up her things–and probably some of his–as we speak.

It was such a successful marriage, full of love and passion, they were obsessed with one another, not being able to be apart for more than a few hours at a time. It was he, not her, who came up with the idea to move to the beach, the creamy, fine sand, reflected by the sun-fueled moon echoing in his mind as he spoke. She had loved it, the very idea of living somewhere so “off the grid,” and “beautiful!” alluring in every sense of the word. He only wanted to hear the waves battle. His family was beyond supportive, happy that he had snagged such a beautiful, intelligent girl all to himself. His brother flirted with her humorously, laughing uproariously when she made a witty retort to his advancements. He himself would pretend to defend her honor and fight him, always losing against the larger one, but grinning and panting from the horse play, nonetheless.

Then, his parents wanted grandchildren, wanted the most successful son to pass on such wonderful traits, giving them something substantial to brag about to their friends. The married couple loved the idea, the thought of holding his little one’s hands as the small bundle of joy waddled towards him, was an exhilarating thought. They tried…then they tried…then tried again…again…again…

It was only too soon when his beloved went to the doctor, only to come back to say nothing was wrong, and it was probably just a fluke, that they should just keep trying. And, of course, he accepted, how could he not? The doctor said she was fine, and perfectly fertile, what else was there to do?

The young man walked to the mail–the mail always a little late, but they never minded–and was curious when he saw a letter from the fertility clinic. Shrugging, he walked back inside his home and called his wife, telling her that she received a letter from the clinic. She snatched it up, ripping it open quickly and glancing through its context. Every period brought her down a shade, her hands shaking as she read. The man, not caring to seem weak, grabbed her by the shoulders and asked if she was okay, concerned.

A loud smack was the only thing he had heard.

As he held his stinging cheek, he looked at the woman questioning, wondering what could have possibly caused such a reaction. She opened her mouth, eyes burning, only to shut it back up and storming to the door. As the loud bang of wood on wood crashed through the house, disturbing the seagulls that determinedly tried to open their garbage cans, his only thought was that she was probably going to his mother’s. He made his way to their room, only to almost lose his balance as something slicked his footing. Once he stopped waving his arms desperately for balance, he looked down and spotted the obvious cause for his mother’s ire. He reached for it, feeling the smooth, soft texture of paper against the pads of his finger. He brought the letter up to eye level, and finally scanned its context.

Hello Mrs. Aqua.

I regret to inform you, that after analyzing the genetic material I managed to obtain from your husband, that you, in fact, are not the problem, but _he _is.

After checking several times, just to make sure, I am absolutely certain that your husband has little sperm, and those that are present, are slow swimmers and cannot make the journey to your eggs.

You cannot have a family Mrs. Aqua, not the one you and your husband so desperately wanted.

I sorry.

From: Dr. Willard.

The letter fell to the floor with barely a flutter, the rustling not being able to be heard over his heart. A family, impossible. That was what had made her so upset, she was going to be denied the family that she had been promised. A promise filled with little princesses and handsome little princes. The promise that made the daughters have her green eyes and his mesmerizing blue. They were the ocean together, he and she, he was the rough, but kind, sea. She was the larger than life stalks of seaweed, reaching just as high as her dreams.

He grabbed a hold onto his lighter, only used for lighting the occasional campfire when they felt like smores, and set the letter ablaze, watching with satisfaction as it curled into itself in a pain that was nowhere near that of his. Running to his car, after snatching his keys from the bowl, he threw himself into the car and drove off. After speeding to the point of insanity and passing enough red lights to pass several lifetimes, he, at last, slammed opened the door, being greeted by the sight of his mother comforting the distraught love of his life.

The ambitious man bent low, his voice reflecting his posture, cooing and comforting the disquieted woman. He talked about how the doctor was mad, bored out his mind with boredom and subjecting others for his amusement. He said that they would keep trying, and, if all else failed, they could just adopt! The woman immediately shot up and screamed, calling him any name he could think of, leaving nothing from the dictionary alone. Calling him a lesser man for not being able to give her what she wanted, the only thing she had ever wanted from him, conveniently ignoring the large blue diamond necklace being showcased on her neck. The wife stormed off when it was obvious that she was not getting what she wanted from him, crying all the way. As the mother stood, the son begged to meet her eye, hoping to have back-up as he confronted his wife, surprise overtaking him as he was met with the same treatment as before.

This slap hurt from more than the other, this one coming from the person who he would have least expected. The matriarch was disgusted, demanding on how he could be so spineless, as to not give his own wife a child to smother once she was left alone from his work. He said that the man’s letter must’ve been a fake, or a sad man looking for attention and a few seconds of it too. She didn’t believe him, thinking back to the conversation that they had had together, talking about how much they tried with no luck, and the confirmation that the wife was fertile. It was her own son, that was the problem, the boy that she had raised to become successful and have perfect family, the son she had bragged and gloated to her irritated friends, laughing when they talked about their happy children going to some lesser school for their chosen art. Now, she was going to be disgraced, and left with a useless stepdaughter that can give her nothing, because her own son could give her less. Betrayed, the angry matriarch stormed off after his wife, leaving a tearful young man in her wake.

His brother was no better, laughing when the favorite could not do his job. His father didn’t look him in the eye, let alone talk to him. He was the shame of the family, when he was once the pride. Now all he had left was his beach house, and the waves’ battles. That might not even last though, if the once love of his life got her way, he would be left with nothing, with no one to turn to.

Once again, just like the day his mother scorned him, he cried, despair flowing through him, echoing to his very being and tearing him apart. He had no one, he could not even conceive a child and that had cost him everything he had ever cared about. All he could do now is work to his dying days, he would be laying on a fortune, but there would no one to leave it to. His legacy, his potential, wasted because nature deemed, he could not do one thing that billions of other people could.

Lifting his head to the ocean, his blue eyes sparkled in the fading sun, tear tracks shimmering in the warmth. Hours drifted in the spray, his hands digging holes into the wet sand, finding natures little treasure. Several clam shells, a conch, even a little living clam, closing when it realized that it had been caught. He turned the small creature in his palm, wishing to shrink and turn into one himself. Who cared about a small, insignificant clam? And they were never alone, coming up the surface in an array of small white spots against their creamy home, going back down once the water receded and the foam put up their weapons.

As the sky’s golds turned to twilight, the young man was hunched over himself, knees to his chest, arms wrapped around and being rested on by his head. He had watched the sky turn to its present colors and had greeted the sparkling stars with a weak hello as they shined, one by one. A sigh escaped as he started shuffled, groaning from his limbs lack of use. His legs were asleep, and he winced as the prickling pins-and-needles feeling got worse as he stood up.

A whistling sound caught his attention from the odd feeling, and he looked up–

_Splash!_

The ground shook as some meteor hit the ocean not too far from him. The ringing in his eyes and the flashing right in his eyes disoriented the man and his fell to his knees, snapping his fingers and rubbing his eyes to come to. When his senses came back, he remembered what happened and jumped back up, adrenaline rushing to his legs, blocking the pins and needles.

Excitement met him, greeting him like an old friend, as his eyes saw angry ripples interrupting the waves’ battlefield. Not wanting to think anymore, he took of his off-white, stained shirt. Leaving his cream-colored slacks on, he foolishly dove into the water, using all his might to swim to the crash site, not thinking about the boiling water that would be around an object so hot, or could possibly be in the water that would get into his system from its interstellar adventure. Diving into the dark water, he slowly swam. After coming up a few times, empty handed, he coincidentally remembered a game that him and his now estranged brother played. Hot and Cold. The warmer the water was, the closer he was. Now having a game plan, he dove in with enthusiasm. Once the water started to get colder, he went into the opposite direction, once the water got warmer, he swam hard and fast, over shooting and having to go back again.

After what felt like hours of going back up to the surface, only to once again dove back down to find where he was, a subtle glow of violet caught his eye. Forgetting the need for air, he swam deeper into the depths, coming upon a sphere of blue metal. It was too deep to reflect the moonlight, the sphere was _glowing, _glowing a beautiful violet all around its smooth surface. The man screamed, coming out as useless bubbles of distress, as the sphere slowly opened to reveal…a person.

No, not quite.

The mystery looked female, beautiful red hair flowing in the weak current. Purple, plumb lips, the same shade as the puzzling glow, small stones were below her eyes, the color of orchids. The most shocking though, and the trait that made her obviously _not _human, was her skin. A beautiful shade of azure was over her entire body, misting over her collarbones and up the smooth skin of her neck. She was wearing what looked to be an armored cocktail dress, seafoam scales locking together. The bottom half rushed into a thing of scaly leggings, so seamless that the outfit looked like a one-piece. The man swam closer, curiosity once again taking over, forgetting his need for oxygen and just how deep he was. Swimming closer, the cold water comfortingly hugging him, he touched the vessel. He drew his hand back; a hiss would’ve escaped had he been on the surface. Though not skin melting, it was more than enough to give a bit of a sting.

He swam around it, the vessel nice and cushioned in the crushed coral, fish swimming away from their destroyed homes and crustaceans scurrying away. As he inspected the blue sphere, he noticed patterns across its surface. They were a series of swirls, circles in between the series of whirls. Risking getting burned again, he went to touch one of them, shocked when it had glowed a lovely purple. The light whirled around his finger, almost snuggling into his skin. A feeling of comfort grew in his heart, bubbles floating gently to the surface as he closed his eyes at the feeling, not feeling peace like that for months.

_Whoosh!_

Water rushed past him, just as he retracted his hand, pushing him away from the ship. He looked to the surface, hoping to catch whatever swam past him, praying that it wasn’t a bull shark, or some other predator. As he looked to the moon, hoping for light, a shape swam under it, casting a shadow across the sea floor. Slowly, he looked back to the vessel, visibly slumping when the cushioning inside was completely empty, only a few scales left of the odd lady.

Turning around, he screamed in terror, water rushing into his lungs. She was right in front of him! Her hair was sweeping across her face, fluttering over her cheeks and lips. He was now struggling, the scream giving away the last of his oxygen to the fish. Twisting and turning, completely ignoring the woman, he swam to the surface, black spots blocking his vision as he swam harder. In a cruel twist of fate, just as he felt his hand touching the promising surface, his legs stopped working, swimming their last, and his arm numbed. His mind was screaming at them to move, but move they did not, dooming their master of a lonely death, rotting at the bottom of the sea, completely forgotten by those who vowed him the world.

Soft arms wrapped around his middle, squeezing tightly, and lips descended on his, though he barely felt the press. As the lady squeezed tighter, the more water pooled from his mouth, and the longer she pressed her lips to his, the less of a need to breathe there was. Finally, once he got feeling back into his limbs, he put his hands on her face and pulled away. He only got a flash of deep green eyes before he shot to the surface, shock apparent on his face. He hadn’t kissed anyone since he was deemed the problem, and the feeling was rather alien.

He swam back a bit when the lady popped up from the surface, smiling as kindly as the ocean was to him. The two just stood there, studying each other, circling each other, documenting their differences. As the lady looked under the surface at his legs, he did the same. Her legs had odd thin tissue running down the length of them, creating fins on either leg. And though it was distorted by the moving water, he could see that her feet’s toes were highly webbed, covered in shoes of a see-through material. It looked like plastic, but he knew it was not.

She gracefully swam around him, her finned legs and webbed toes letting her fly through the water with natural ease. The woman was curious about him, who was friendly though odd. When she reached towards his hair, he lowered his head to allow her research. She giggled at the rough strands, months of stress making the hair white in several areas, and lack of care making it stiff and unhealthy. Thinking it was part of his species, she ran her fingers through, curious at the rough feeling. The young man groaned at the touch, not getting anything that wasn’t a slap in almost a year, the feeling was heavenly. The woman giggled again, this time scratching her slightly pointier nails across his scalp, making the man’s eyes flutter a bit, blissed out.

Not knowing what to do, the man gently raised his own hand to her head and glided his fingers through her hair. It was like water, the strands even thinner and more numerous than a human, shimmering like volcanic lava, softly hissing and slowly flowing across his fingertips. He must have looked a little awed, because the aquatic woman snorted a little, and would have blushed just like a human if her anatomy allowed that. Both stopping their exploration, they continued to swim, hers a beautiful dance, his, a labored struggle after almost drowning. As they continued to swim, he started to struggle to keep his head above the surface, bobbing under the waves on occasion.

The woman, noticing this, frowned and swam forward to wrap her arms around his middle, keeping him above the surface with surprising strength. Or, not so surprising, since she clearly lived her life in the water. Keeping him facing the opposite way, after settling him on her chest, she slowly swam backwards towards the shore, watching the quickly tiring man. He had swum an impressive way off, so it took some time to get to their destination. But while it took him a whole thirty minutes to get there through incessant paddling, it took her just ten, the water practically carrying her to the shore. As soon as sand was a foothold away, both he and her stood up and stumbled to the sandy beach. He stumbled with fatigue, she stumbled with not being used to standing in general, rarely needing to go to the surface.

Planting face first into the sand, the man took several labored breaths, shivering from the wind current sailing over his body with vigor. He looked up when his swim buddy plopped down next to him, poking the toes of her odd shoes into the sand, then kicking up, giggling as it flew before gravity turned cruel and the small grains hurtled back to the earth. Digging his elbows into the sand, he raised himself up a bit and looked at his new friend. She was quite beautiful, her hair, drying with haste, flying up and down her face and across her cheekbones. She looked down at him with those dazzling green eyes, smiling at him. He was mesmerized by her, never before seeing anyone as unique, and so friendly towards others. She was a different *species* and she had treated him with a kindness he had not felt since his marriage and begun.

He flopped back down, his little white hairs grazing the sand as he tried to fight off sleep.

A car starting, engine chugging, was the thing that brought him back to his senses. Headlights flooded his eyes with so much white, he had though another meteor struck, and he shielded them against the intrusion of brightness. His now ex-wife came out of the car, stomping over to him, anger radiating from her like an angry sun. She came screaming, calling him a cheater and bastard, pointing at woman that had saved his life. She kept screaming that they hadn’t even been officially separated and he was already sleeping around with tramps. She called the aquatic girl a stupid belly dancer and a painted slut, pointing out her oddities in appearance. His new friend started at the crazy woman in shock, not understanding the words, but knowing their intention. She looked at the young, embarrassed man and smiled shyly, shrugging her shoulders at the situation.

The clear lack of caring in her words, and the look shared between the two, only fueled her anger, and she shouted louder, saying she was going to make sure she was going his precious beach house, that it was hers by default after he failed to do his job. She recoiled in fear as her ex exploded, months of insults, subtle and not, laughter from his and her lawyer, slaps and punches from every member of his family–excluding his father, who did nothing and pretended that his son didn’t exist–and being pushed around for not being able to _create _a family. He told the vile woman that he did not know what he saw in her. That, if he could, he would go back in time, slap his past self, and tell the naïve boy to take a nice long hike to the nearest beach and be hermit! That if the woman that saved his life was a slut, that was no word in the English Dictionary for what _she _was. That she could have whatever she wanted, since she already took everything that he even really cared about. His brother. Gone. His mother? Hates him. His father? What father! That she had all but castrated, and that the stress of being married to such a witch was what probably made him infertile in the first place.

He kept yelling, throwing insults with more wit and sarcasm than anything she could do. What dirt did she have? Him being a devoted husband? Him buying the most expensive beach house _in existence _because she liked the pretty seashells, even if he was perfectly fine with the hut? Him not caring that she slept with their lawyer in their bed, when he was out of town, saying she had needs, and that he still loved her. Him saying…that he could not care less if she could not have kids. That he would love her no matter what and would always support her.

What did she possibly have against him?

They were at each other’s throats, foaming at the mouth with every yelled insult, him yielding a poisoned dagger, she clumsily holding a broken sword. They kept going at it, their words crashing into each other as the noise roared to a chorus of unworthy anger and gut-wrenching pain. Words that would never be said in polite company poured from their mouths, creating huge tsunamis of humiliation and embarrassment, of pettiness and rage. They were meters apart, but they might as well be beating the other into a pulp for how they were going at it. And whenever the ex-wife went after his savior, he only got more vicious and clever, the white in his hair accentuating the whites in his eyes.

He didn’t stop, couldn’t stop until she ran away screaming and crying, throwing threats into the air, which were swept away in the same breath. As the car screeched away, breaking several laws, the man’s energy plummeted to zero, and he _crashed. _Curling up into a ball, tears streaming from his eyes, he shuddered when a comforting hand rubbed his shoulder soothingly. He took hold of the hand comforting him, whispering gratitudes into the hand, not caring if its owner could understand the grateful words.

Awkward silence was left after he calmed down. After witnessing all of this, the woman that gave him the kiss of life must’ve been the most uncomfortable person in the world, and he could not blame her. Some hours later, the sun just peaking over the horizon, they were still sat on the beach, looking at each other with small smiles and wondering how to communicate. As the blues turned to purples, and purples turned to golds, he sighed. He did not want it to end, he hadn’t been this happy and peaceful in months, if ever, and even though he did not know this lady, did not know _what _she was, he felt…connected.

He turned towards his savior again, wondering about just what to do. The aquatic woman met his eyes and smiled. He couldn’t help it, all the stress, all the fear and uncertainty, all the _almost dying_ got to his head, and he leaned in. Lips met lips and it felt blissful to the man, seconds passing as the sun ripples against the calm waves. When he pulled back, he was met with confusion, the woman’s features scrunched up cutely with a tilted head.

Realization hit him, and he laughed softly. When she had “kissed” him, she was giving him the actual kiss of life. She was squeezing the water out of his lungs, and sucking the water out, something allowing her and her people to evolve the means of saving the drowning.

Sitting up straight, he cupped her face, sweeping his thumb along her lips, doing the same to his own. Still, she didn’t get it. Grabbing her arms, he stood them both slowly and wrapped his arms around her, once she got comfortable, he put his lips on hers again, not quite kissing. A light bulb light in her head, and she understood the gesture, it was a sign of affection on this world, an intimate one most likely. Grinning, she stood up on her tip toes and clumsily returned the gesture.

Not expecting it, the young man fell back, the aquatic woman going down with him. After making sure there were no sand burns or sprained ankles, they both looked at each other and laughed. As the insanity and hilarity finally–_finally_–sank in, laugher turned into full blown hysteria, holding each other and laughing until their sides hurt.

How did they get here? It would take years to explain the psychology behind this insanity! He went from being incredibly depressed, to being an idiot and rushing to the ocean, to making out with an alien mermaid lady. Despite everything, he held on close to her, she felt like stability, sanity. She saved him, kind to him, and dealt with his now–unregretfully–yelling her head off. He did not believe that one can instantly make connections, the thought making him laugh superiorly. Love at first sight and soulmates? Nonsense, one had to earn their love’s admiration and respect, proving that they could be a good match through hard work and gifts. Opposites attract? You only could be friends, especially best friends, if you were alike, dress the same, talk the same, _walk _the same. Being different was what got you nothing but shame.

Then, he became different. Then, he was isolated. His friends talked behind his back, until he could not take it anymore and locked himself in his house with his crazy wife all hours of day and night. He took the sea even more during that time, not caring how white his had gotten and that any passerby would just see a sad old hermit watching the waves. He rarely washed, not caring anymore, food turned to ash, even when he put enough salt to make a lake brackish. The cruel words from his wife just kept adding on, until he whispered that he wanted it to stop, he wanted it to end. He wanted a divorce.

They caught their breath, chest heaving, foreheads against one another. Laughing again, his cheeks hurting and chest hurting, he got up, grabbing the aquatic darling’s hand and ran to the ocean. The sun was shining, and he could see human silhouettes on the sandy hills. Aquatic darling let go of his hand and raced ahead of him, sticking her tongue out as she held the lead. Taking the challenge, he pumped his legs, jumping over driftwood and zig-zagging, using his knowledge of his beach to catch up.

Just as she reached the water’s edge, thin arms wrapped around her, picking her up and spinning. Squeals and laughs could be heard for miles on the quiet beach, as the couple twirled and twirled kicking up sand and splashing water at each other, her voice lilting as smoothly as a rocking ship, and while he was embarrassed by the dry crack in his, he found he did not care as much with her. While that would just be one more thing for his wife to seethe about, saying how her husband’s voice should be smooth as silk and as deep as a ravine, he could not seem to mind, not when she smiled like that.

As the water became deeper, darkening at the edges, the aquatic darling dove into its depths, the man following soon after. The water was freezing, the morning sun not having the slightest chance of warming up, yet he followed. He had swum in the freezing morning waters many times, the cold numbing everything and not allowing him to think as he drifted with the slow current.

He followed her through the corals, the pinks and oranges encouraging the sun to come out and give them something to eat. The fish poked their heads out of their shelters, ready to nab at anything that looked tasty, the light igniting their hunts and warming their blood. Aquatic darling could stay underwater for much longer than the man, and swim much faster, so after the fourth time he had to stop her to breathe or catch up, he shooed his hands, encouraging her to swim ahead. He knew where she was going, the excitement in her eyes obvious. She nodded her head and zoomed off, every muscle working beautifully as she moved with speed. Blowing exasperated bubbles at the journey ahead, he used the protection that the underwater gave from the slushing waves and doubled his pace.

He had no idea why he wasn’t exhausted. Most days, he could barely go two hours without taking a nap, the stresses of his life weighing on his so much, that his heart constantly beat desperately. What reminded him that the heart was, in fact, a muscle, was when his chest started to hurt, flares of pain that stopped his breath coming out of nowhere. He was stressing so much, that his heart was cramping, muscle tissue tightening, causing him extreme amounts of pains at random times. His heart pumped for a different reason now, and it seemed to like the change. The chest pains were just about daily, and he was expecting one as he sat on the beach at night, anticipating his ex-wife crashing her car into the house, leaving him with the repair bill. His heart was beating just as fast now, though he felt like the muscles were more relaxed, livelier, less cramped together trying to get his brain to start–or stop, for the love of mollusks–working.

Reaching their shared destination, taking one more breath stop before diving right back in, he went to the completely cool sphere. It was not there. Instead, a home met him, a beautiful, large, hut of coral, fish swimming in and out appreciatively. He knew a boy–that he regretted not getting to know–who was equally obsessed with marine biology as he secretly was. He was very opened about it, being met with criticism on how he should use his brains to be something actual worthwhile, like a lawyer–the young man had discreetly put his clownfish necklace under his collar. The boy wore a short-sleeve hoodie, not caring about showing off his “distasteful” Betta fish and wave tattoos, a Siamese Fighting Fish acrobatically twirling on his shirt. He wanted to save the oceans, find a way to make coral grow at rapid speeds to regrow all the destroyed reefs back in as little as a decade. He would have loved this, would have skipped the squealing and just pass out. The young man knew he wanted to.

He swam to the hut, almost bumping into a…a…

DEAR GOD!

The young man forgot how to human, so spent a whole three minutes flailing his arms and legs around at the sight of the _massive _Great White that came out of thin air–well, water. He knew they were unlikely to attack, and his acting like an all-you-can-stupid buffet was not doing him any favors. But reading about one and…_seeing _one were two different things. He tried to remember all those books, all of that decided to take a vacation to Mt. Everest when Big Boy showed up.

Lucky for him, the shark had no interest in panicked humans, instead gently rubbing her–Big _Girl–_ sides against the smooth coral that made up the roof. If a shark could groan, the calmer man would have bet his seashell collection that the shark would have sounded like a Pitbull that just got a ten-minute belly rub. _Err!_

Slowly making his way to the safety of the threshold, the man groped for the side. As soon as the shark went around to check for more smooth coral, and he had hold, he chucked himself in. Imagine his surprise when he was met with thin air and a face full of yellow coral. Huffing at himself, he got to his knees and stood up, studying his surroundings with an impressed eye.

The place was made up of coral, too bright to be from here, but the same overall structure. There were red chairs with yellow sponge, the sponge synthetic and not real, just very convincing looking. There was a purple couch, with pink sponge this time, next to some sort of floating blue screen. Would have to try to look at that later. The floors were yellow, and the sides and ceiling were the same violet of the ship, making for one hell of a contrast. All the doors were made from a blood red coral, yet to the touch with some mist coming from above. The door right across from the front opened, and aquatic darling came out, dressed in pajamas and drying her thin, luscious hairs. The man’s lips twitched at the design, some cute, alien–to him–fish was swimming with his friends, the swirling and circular symbols that appeared on the vessel were on it, making out some sort of message, and likely joke. The design was the same throughout the long-sleeved shirt and slacks, giving the fish a lot of friends to mingle with.

As soon as she caught sight of him, she skipped over and, with effort, pressed her lips to his. It was as chaste as could be, nothing like the hours long make-out sessions that his former wife and he had, but it was far sweeter than any of those combined. Pulling back, she led him to around the place, her confusing language drifting through the air. She knew he could not understand, but the effort to make him involved was appreciated, he wondered how someone so kind could even exist, extraterrestrial or not.

A wave of guilt crashed over him. While this happened very quickly, it felt like forever. And even if they could not speak the same language, he felt more connected to her than any being he had known, those he should’ve known being scorned. He leaned on her, cutting her off, resting his chin on her head. Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned her around, not knowing how to explain. She gaped confusedly at him when he laid his hands over her stomach, assuming that _that _part of their anatomy was the same. He shook his head, rubbing his hands over her abdomen, then laid them on his heart, shaking his head again. He could not have children, he was different, if they were to ever get that serious, he could not grant that wish.

After doing it a few more times, feeling that she must know that before anything else, she once again connected the dots. She gaped, in shock this time, only, instead of ridicule and screams, he was met with her soft hands and cooing. He had been crying, expecting this hazy, ridiculous, wonderful dream to be over. She rubbed her thumbs over his tear tracks, cooing and hugging him close, understanding all that he was implying. She did not care, she hadn’t felt this great since she was sent here for exploration–incognito, but that was obviously not a thing. Snatching his hands, she lowered him down and bumped his nose with hers, doing that until he started to chuckle, giving nose bumps back. He put a hand on the nape of her neck, and gently craned her neck up, bringing her violet lips to his. Eyes closed, they stayed like that for several moments, not wanting to let go of that sweet feeling and welcome back the loneliness.

Some minutes later, cuddling on the couch, the aquatic darling jumped up and gestured to the whole house, then him. Second try later, he got the memo–_Live with me_. He sat there, leaned back comfortably against the not-alive sponge, he stared at her. All his life he had everything planned out. Get good grades, easy. Go to law school, hell. Get a wife, done. Get a kid, pump the breaks and get out. He had spent the first twenty-seven years of his life being the person everyone wanted, including a random girl who asked him to prom and seemed pretty.

Why not be a little happy and crazy?

Screw it. Screw the house, he wanted a hut anyway. His family sucked; his ex could _gladly _keep them. He had no friends, as they were all dicks who cheated on their eighteen-year-old wives anyway. His wife wanted everything? She wanted to break him for not knocking her? She could have everything, he was outta there. She could keep the house though!

Standing up, feeling more confident and happier than he had been his entire life, he grabbed the fish-pajama clad girl and spun her around, lilted voice squealing in excitement. His old life could be lonely by itself; it could shrivel up and die in a fire for all he cared. He had an amazing, fish-loving, baggy pajama wearing, _alien _girlfriend, who could not care less that he could not knock her up and make little purple hybrids. So, what if this was a horrendous idea, that this might be dangerous–lethal even–he was going on an adventure of a lifetime, he was going to be happy. He’d known this girl for less than twenty-four hours, and he had met a freakin’ Great White that liked to cuddle against coral! He could live with a little danger.

As pecks and laughs galore were made, Big Girl had swum up against the roof, shaking it a little with sheer bulk alone. They both stopped, looking at each other with shocked smiles and wide eyes. The second round of coral cuddling had commenced, and Big Girl was having the time of her life getting rid of all those nasty little buggers on her skin. Chuckling, the man met the girl’s eyes, meeting danger and the promise adventure. The aquatic darling’s eyes sparkled with mischief–any shyness she had once displayed dead and gone–as she looked up and back at him.

_Wanna take a look?_

**Author's Note:**

> I shall make you guys a deal, and I will be tracking this, if THIS story, or any of my stories, gets a hundred hits-not even kudos, just hits-I will put up the email that I made this account with (strictly business one, no way am I putting my personal one up on a random site. I love you Archive, but no. I get enough spam as it is), and let you guys give me prompts to your hearts content. Though there will be a few restrictions-some obvious, some not-those will be put up if this goal is met, with the next story.  
So, if you are an aspiring person with ideas, and preferably drawings, you want to be typed to life, just tell all your friends, family, and whatever other type of loved-ones, that you frequent this fandom site and get them to click on my stories and get out. Or, even better, read them.  
And, maybe a few comments saying how bad these works are?  
I'm so lonely...  
Also, for some reason all the tabs didn't translate into the Work Text-near the very end-and my perfectionism with writing is kinda strangling me.  
Happy Writing, Bookworms!


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